


the love that follows us sometimes is our trouble

by ashbird



Category: Eroica Yori Ai o Komete | From Eroica with Love
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Future Fic, Gen, Homophobic Language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-01
Updated: 2019-01-01
Packaged: 2019-09-23 23:17:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17089607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashbird/pseuds/ashbird
Summary: He stilled immediately upon entering, pausing over the threshold to register the thick, nicotine-laden smoke filling the room. Disbelief fell over Dorian's form, followed by a slow resignation. The door shut behind him with a weighted click.





	the love that follows us sometimes is our trouble

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Karios for beta-reading and all the suggestions. All mistakes leftover are mine.
> 
> Title deliberately taken out of context from Macbeth by William Shakespeare.  
> "The love that follows us sometime is our trouble, which still we thank as love."

The night bustled with the enticing fragrance of exotic food, festive music, and the mishmash of conversations overlapping all at once. Twinkling lights hung over head, their luminance creating a dim atmospheric glow against the darkness.

From his tongue flowed a rough fluency of the local language, flirtatious in nature as he weaved and cast out a metaphoric net. His eyes warmed with the heat of a single night's heady promise. It didn't take long for a beautiful stranger to come and wrap possessive arms around his neck.

Anonymity shielded him. A disguise allowed him to blend into his surroundings. He was not Eroica here, the Earl of Gloria, nor any of the aliases he was more famously known by. Here, he was another stranger in a foreign country, a temporary memory to be forgotten once gone.

He smiled, the curve of his lips seductive and brimming confidence. Sweet words of meaningless affection left his mouth for a welcoming ear. Dorian reduced the man in front him to the touch of hands on his hip and neck, tight and wanting. _This_ was all he needed.

The beginnings of dawn spread its limpet hues against the starlit sky, brightening the night as he returned to his suite. Dorian unlocked the door, disguise gone, his body bone-achingly tired but sated. He stilled immediately upon entering, pausing over the threshold to register the thick, nicotine-laden smoke filling the room. Disbelief fell over Dorian's form, followed by a slow resignation. The door shut behind him with a weighted click.

Arms crossed loosely and expression closed, a presence impossible to ignore sat on one of the available seats away from the window. Dangling from his fingertips, a half-finished cigarette dripped ash into a full ashtray. Dorian found himself looking at a man he hadn't seen or heard from in years, and for a single moment, it felt like nothing had changed.

Even if _everything_ had changed.

Slowly, Dorian began to take in details. Faint strands of gray peeked out between the curtain of dark hair. There were fine lines of age on his face and a white, long-healed scar on one side of the jaw. A standard brown coat and suit covered everything else.

Despite the passage of time, Major Klaus von dem Eberbach still looked as handsome as the last time Dorian had seen him in years past.

The corner of his lips hooked up in a smile Dorian didn't feel. However, instead of bursting into customary flamboyance as the Major's presence beckoned, Dorian only loosened his scarf from around his neck with a finger. He walked silently across the room and pushed open the windows to let the scent of smoke fade.

In the enduring silence, he took in a breath of cold, crisp air and wondered how he should proceed. The dull ache of memories twisted a sharp lance deep in his chest, but it was such an old and familiar pain that operating around it was a matter of course.

" _Eroica_."

Chilling in a bucket of melting ice, a bottle of expensive wine sat on a side table, ready to be opened. Dorian picked it up silently, popping the cork and filling a glass.

Once upon a time, Dorian had hoped a scenario like this would play out. The Major would 'come to his senses' and search for him. He'd find him in his room, they'd talk, and then fall to bed in a tangle of limbs and clothes, making love until dawn. It was a good fantasy to indulge in. One Dorian had fallen out of, once the dream had shattered and his rose-tinted glasses fell into an unforgiving sea.

He lifted up the wine glass, swirling the dark crimson liquid idly. A faint hint of the sun peeked over the edges of the sky and made a picturesque scene on the horizon.

Once the Major realized a reply wasn't forthcoming, the man didn't fall into old habits of cursing or snapping, though it seemed like he wanted to do just that. "Your skills are required, Lord Gloria," he bit out instead, the words spoken with such reluctance that it might not have been said at all.

Dorian took a leisurely sip of wine, his gaze shifting to the Major. "...And you'd know if you called the castle that Eroica is no longer taking NATO missions, Major." Dorian’s smile remained, his tone light and unaffected. "Haven't been for years, really. It does make me curious how you found me, though. Hardly any other international spies out and about that I've seen." Had it been Bonham? He still corresponded on and off with Agent A, but the emails had tapered off once their missions and capers stopped intertwining. James had been happy he'd gotten over his obsession over the Major, however, one couldn't discount a well-worth bribe when it came to the accountant. Maybe John Paul or Gian Maria...? No, John Paul would have stood his ground and the Don's interests laid with Eroica's.

Dorian went over the short list of people who knew where he was, but he couldn't be certain who was responsible until he looked into it and more details were clear. Besides, he wouldn't be surprised if NATO had sent spies to monitor his whereabouts if a job required his skills.

That thought reminded him. He would have to break into the Bonn building again and see if they had updated his file recently. Maybe they had also updated their security in the meantime and could offer him a challenge?

"This isn't for NATO." Cigarette discarded, the Major removed a folder from the inside of his coat and pressed it down on the desk.

Dorian's blue eyes slid from the prismatic hue of the wine glass to the figure across the room. They both played to a calm neither of them felt, but the clench of the Major's hands and the stiffness of his profile spoke of higher stakes. Anger lurked beneath the surface of that poker face, as well as a sliver of desperation. Well, he did say it was a personal affair.

Dorian felt his curiosity rear its head, but he held it by the neck and refrained from letting it run free. This was a rabbit hole he didn't want to leap into. After all the effort that went into climbing out of the original pit, gone were the days Dorian would eagerly jump at a chance to chase after Iron Klaus. Still, there was a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach that told him that he knew what this personal mission might entail anyway. "Unfortunately, Major, I'll still have to decline," he said brightly. "I've much to do here, you see."

At this, the Major's facade cracked and he stood, slamming a hand on the desk. His green eyes flashed with anger. "Doing what? Breaking into people's houses and spending your time rolling in bed with whores!? _Scheisse_!" The Major took in a deep breath to calm himself, mussing his hair by combing his fingers through the dark locks. Dorian's insides did a flip at the sight. Damn him for still being so attractive; damn _him,_ for still being attracted. "No, I did not come here to argue. I-"

Dorian drained the rest of his glass to wet his dry throat. "Major," he interrupted, waving the hand still holding the glass. "While I'm sure your mission is very important, I've no interest in taking part. Surely, in your line of work, you can ask someone else?"

"I have already considered everyone else," the Major said flatly. Dorian played with the idea of being insulted he'd been the last choice, but it wasn't exactly a surprise. "Although I'd prefer not to ask for your help, you remain the only one with the capability, means and modicum of honor. In my line of work," the Major bared his teeth in a grim smile that made Dorian briefly consider the nearest exit. "There are few that can be trusted." _NATO cannot be trusted for this._

Dorian's hands shook slightly and he set his glass down before he hurled somewhere he'd regret. "Perhaps I wasn't clear," he said slowly, testing the words. "Our ties were cut years ago. You know the reasons why. If those are your standards, I've a number of people I could recommend you." And they'd leap at the chance of doing Eroica, Prince of Thieves, a favor. He stood by the windowsill, letting the wind drift and ruffle his hair. Absently, he imagined the picture he made with the glow of dawn around him. Too bad the man in front of him couldn't appreciate it. He should have stayed with his one night stand and probably avoided the whole confrontation. "I'll write you a list, Major, and you can be on your way."

The Major pressed his lips together before admitting, "...they have taken my son."

Without meaning to, Dorian felt himself go very still.

He remembered a photo a long time ago, when the Major had had enough of his reckless chase and let him in on a well-guarded secret. The infant in the photo had been young, but unmistakable in origin; the woman, naturally of German descent, had seemed very happy. Not much needed to be said or seen beyond that; the facts were on the table.

They went their separate ways, much to their teams' utter confusion. Speculations about the nature of their relationship ran rampant, but no one approached the truth of it. Whenever NATO called, Eroica had been stubbornly unavailable.

Only once, when NATO placed blackmail on the table, did Eroica show his face. However, the thief's stay in the building was a short one. As though nothing was amiss, he breezed into the Chief's office with all his usual vibrant flamboyance and walked out less than half an hour later, leaving NATO headquarters without so much as a backward glance. The Chief and a couple of others high in the hierarchy emerged visibly paler, blotting themselves with their handkerchiefs. Apparently, an Eroica that did not have any personal affection tying him to NATO could be vicious when prodded and better left to his mostly harmless vices.

"...I'm very sorry," Dorian said and did not offer more. He deliberately did not imagine what the Major's son would look like now.

The Major stared at him with incomprehension, as though he had suddenly become a stranger. Dorian couldn't imagine why. He was self-aware enough to know that he had always been selfish, pulled along by his whims or another passing fancy, especially so when he had interfered or assisted in NATO missions. His love for the Major was the only thing that remained steadfast, but, after all these years, was there a remnant of it left in him now?

"...If I give you that damned pumpkin pants?"

The question perplexed Dorian and his stomach churned. His desire for the painting, the Man in Purple, had faded years ago. He almost didn't remember it, careful as he'd been to keep the Major out of his mind. However, the offer scratched at older wounds of trading favors for beautiful promises. In any case, what was he supposed to do with a painting that would only serve to taunt him?

A wan smile traced his lips, becoming Eroica's easy, blasé smile. "My! That old painting," he shook his head, his voice adopting a flippant quality. He saw the Major tense at hearing the tone and felt a distant satisfaction. If the Major wasn't taking a denial from Dorian, he'd have to face him another way. "Can't say it interests me anymore. But really, Major! I don't believe I can work for you in this. I'm no good with children, you see. Maybe I'll consider it if you offered something else?" Coiling a strand of blond hair around his finger, the thief adjusted his stance and leered suggestively at the man, giving that well-honed body a lecherous once over.

As if a switch had been pulled, the Major drew himself up with a livid snarl. "Faggot! I can't believe I thought to come to a pervert like you!" He lunged at Eroica, grabbing the lapels of his shirt, and raised a fist to punch him.

"It wouldn't do for you to forget what I am," the thief said cheerfully, fearlessness dancing in eyes that dared the Major to complete the action.

After a second, the Major dropped his arm back to his side, but then he slammed Eroica against the wall. Eroica winced, the breath knocked out from his lungs. When the Major hesitated in mid-motion, alarm bells blared loud warnings in Eroica's head. _Bloody hell,_ the Major was actually considering it! Now! Years too late! For the _wrong_ reasons!

Eroica shoved the Major back. Surprised, the man stumbled and fell back on the bed, gaping at him. He didn't move to get up.

Dorian left him there, his body noisy with conflicted emotions. He went to the desk, grabbed a notepad from one of the drawers, and wrote out a few names of colleagues he knew personally to be 'trustworthy'. It was a short list. There were even two that he couldn't say with full certainty would accept a job from a NATO agent, even with Eroica's favor as a hook. Whoever the Major decided on, Dorian hoped he was persuasive. Some criminals didn't react well to being threatened with a magnum.

He held out the slip of paper filled with names written in beautiful script. It could have been framed on a wall had it not been a list of notorious criminal masterminds.

"...I wouldn't be able to trust them," the Major said. He sat up and accepted the list with forced composure. They could both pretend the last few moments didn't happen. "I can trust you because you've kept the secret for this long. Can you guarantee these criminals will be able to do the same?"

Years ago, Dorian would have enjoyed hearing he had the Major's trust. Now, the knowledge only wedged the emotional blade deeper. He didn't discard the possibility the Major was using Dorian's mixed emotions and their history to his advantage. Dorian had witnessed many times over the course of their entwined paths all the things the Major would do for a mission. "They wouldn't keep it for you," he said truthfully. "But, they will keep your secret for _me_."

"That's not enough."

"It will have to be," Dorian replied, letting his lips linger in the last visages of a smile. "...I'm surprised you didn't think I released the information." He sat down on the chair the Major had recently vacated and avoided looking at the folder. His gaze flitted towards the window, to the open sky and the warming colors of the city's sun-bleached landscape.

"...I thought it might have been you," the Major said, clenching his fist around the list of names.

_So much for trusting him._

"You sound like you know who did?"

The Major's brow knitted, shoulders hunching in a way that Dorian almost didn't catch the action. For a long moment, the Major said nothing. "...She did."

It took a moment for the answer to register. Dorian's breath hitched faintly when it did, his easy-going demeanor faltering. He thought that the Major expected him to gloat, but he felt anything but triumphant. _What did he want him to do, say 'I told you so'? 'You should have accepted my love instead'?_ There was only a vague numbness, as if the great chasm left in his chest had just cracked open a little wider.

"Major," Dorian said instead, stringing together social politeness in lieu of continuing that line of conversation. "I'm sure you have places to be."

The Major opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. His mouth clicked shut with a snap and he gave Dorian a wooden nod. He stood, adopted the steely posture befitting a military man, and left Dorian in a silent room still lingering with the scent of cigarette smoke. The folder continued to sit on the desk where it'd been left behind.

Dorian watched the Major leave and closed his eyes, counting the minutes until the morning fully awoke. He imagined the clink of chains around his neck, where the weight of years' worth of love wrapped around him once more, heavy and clinging.

He flipped the folder open to the first page. With his free hand, he picked up the phone receiver, dialing for London.

_"...Hello, Bonham?"_

**Author's Note:**

> This was one of a handful of yuletide fics for Tangerine, the first one I managed to finish before Narcissus. For one reason or the other, it's actually one of my favorites in the small pile of posted and unposted fics despite how it is.
> 
> What happens after this story is still in fragments of scenes in my mind and hasn't really come together. I'd like to think all my stories will eventually end up with a happy ending, but I didn't exactly intend to write angst in the first place...
> 
> Anyway, Happy New Year?!


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